


come back to me.

by tired_noiz



Series: DMMD one-shots. [1]
Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 17:35:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5425826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tired_noiz/pseuds/tired_noiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluff between Aoba and Noiz. Set after Noiz goes to Germany.</p>
            </blockquote>





	come back to me.

There's a light at the end of the road. Not the type of glow that fills one with comfort, but the glare one might see when visiting the doctors for a checkup; a light that fills one with dread. The type that makes one want to stumble away, rather than stumble towards - so that's what he did. With trembling treads turning to hurried steps, he fled, attempting to go faster than the speed of light, wanting to do the impossible. The shadows were escaping his grasp and the floodlights were catching up. Despite the thundering of his heart, he could faintly hear yelling of his name; they must be calling him back, he realised. Begging him to stop. He didn't care who it was at this point - he just wanted to get away.

His escape was momentarily halted by a tripwire, setting off an explosion close enough to him to feel the heat and inhale the smoke. As the smoke suffocated his lungs, he couldn't help but cough as his vision blurred and he stayed knelt on the ground, defeated. The voices got clearer and closer, yet he was still stuck to the road in shock. The fire was extinguished, similar to his fight. The footsteps came considerably closer and whilst he didn't cooperate with them lifting him, he doesn't resist them either. It's as if he's laying lifeless in their hands. A hand extends and touches his face, to which he couldn't help but take a glance up at the ones above him. There were two of them. One had concerned eyes and the other had a deviant smile. He couldn't do anything but wish he'd ran into the blaze.

He soon finds out their names are Trip and Virus, respectively. Despite knowing their names, they wouldn't let him know who they're working for, only that "we're great fans of him". According to them, he would meet him in time. Honestly, he didn't wish to, yet on the other hand he did; it was all a mess in his mind. It's not as if he had a choice in the matter though - his feet were linked with the wall by a running chain that clinked together every time he moved, alerting both Virus and Trip of his movements, and the mystery man up above him.

There's only so much one can take of staring at the same, stark wall for hours on end, before they break down. It had been reasonably silent, aside from the tock of the only clock (that told the wrong time, just to drive him more insane), and the tap of typing pouring from both Virus and Trip, sitting in the same room as his - mainly to watch over him and in this case, to witness his breakdown. Abruptly, he flew up, his calm, or rather apathetic nature forming into rage as he flung the links against the wall.

"Let me see who's damn well holding me here or so to God you don't know what I'll do." Was the threat that spat out from his mouth. Doing the same as usual, Virus and Trip didn't bat an eyelid at this display. If anything, Virus' smile grew wider, and Trip's eyes became sinister as they agreed. As they switched his chains over, he realized he couldn't regret his decision now even though he should've done. It wasn't excitement but dread that filled him as they ascended up in an elevator, and slight surprise as he eyed his reflection: unkempt hair, exhausted eyes and unlike his usual ensemble of colours and shades, he was dressed in pure white. Before, he hadn't been the most tanned individual, nonetheless his complexion had definitely became more of a ghost's, complete with the dark circles under his eyes.

The unexpected ding erupted the silence and startled him, whilst the doors burst open exposing him to harsh brightness. Consequently, he'd had to shield his sight, igniting a chuckle from the two next to him as they escorted him out. Of course they'd laugh, he remarked to himself bitterly. The bitterness in his head only added to his never ending feeling of sickness that had been there and insistent since that morning - nerves, he presumed, as he'd been eating the breakfast they prepared him. It wasn't as if they treated him badly there - he had a variety of meals, he wasn't being abused to obey; the only problem was the frustratingly plain walls enclosing him. The chains curled around his feet didn't bother him so much either, though he'd prefer to be without them.

"-san? We have a visitor for you." They both chorused, a joyful chime to their tone (more Virus' than Trip's, if he was being honest). He'd missed the name and the journey while deep in thought. His eyes had been screwed shut to stop the glares of light from burning his vision, as it was now - he couldn't even glance at the sign on the door. Was this how he would meet his captor: not having any knowledge, not even knowing his name, not being aware of his appearance? Apparently so, with the way they marched him in, like a child meeting a headmaster due to bad behaviour. Is this what it was? Had he misbehaved?

The office he'd been dragged into was notably dimmer than the rooms outside. Easing his sore eyes open, he found that his gaze instantly flicked to the only other being in the whole room as he was thrust forward. Before he could study their features, he lost his balance and fell to his knees, only just managing not to fall flat on his face despite the restraints around his wrists. Growling, he tried to scowl back behind him, but found that Virus and Trip had not only entered the room, they had also settled themselves comfortably across what he presumed to be his captor's seating. Virus was sprawled across the luxurious leather chair, his feet resting a close distance away from where Trip had perched down on the desk. In any other situation, he may have felt some pity for Trip having to be sat on the glass desk whilst Virus took the plush chair, but they'd knocked him to his knees, in a rather degrading position - he didn't believe he was below anyone. They'd forced him both physically and metaphorically into being less than this 'almighty' being, which, he noted, he had not yet seen.

A soft hand caressed his hair, ruffling it slightly as it knocked him out of his head. It was a foreign sensation and an uncomfortable one at that. Immediately, he darted away from it and swung his head round to find the culprit. However, when he turned, his view was filled with eyes as gentle as the hand that had touched his head. He'd seen them somewhere, he was sure of it.

"It really is you." That silky voice was one he recognized from somewhere he couldn't pinpoint. The smell gave a sense of nostalgia that made him want to burst into tears. Where had he met this guy? He supposed a tear had rolled down his cheek, for a covered hand wiped it away tenderly. Why was he crying? Who was this guy?

"Please don't cry. I didn't intend for you to cry. I'm sorry." The other man had started streaming tears too, as apologies slipped out as arms slipped around him soothingly. He lent into the embrace, breathing in deeply as if he thought it would aid him in remembering. No such luck. The expression he wore must have shown a great deal of confusion - or apathy, most likely the latter - for the face in front of him turned somber. He didn't miss the flash of hurt that flickered across the other's eyes either, as he released him and returned to his feet.

"Did they treat you well?" Virus and Trip giggled at this, causing the leader to glare distrustfully at them.

Silence passed, the air around them feeling thick and uncomfortable.

"Y-yeah." His voice cracked, obvious as it flooded the silence, causing him to feel even more vulnerable. A hum, along with a few chuckles, were the only responses he received. Tenderly, a covered hand rested upon his shoulder; their eyes met and a silent reassurance was made. Somehow, the minor action made him incredibly relieved, bringing him back to the question: who was this guy? Why did such a slight gesture bring him to a calmer mood so simply?

Subconsciously, his eyes had darted the to the only text in the dim room; a name plate, blocked by Virus' foot and Trip's arm. He could only see an 'o', and he was certain it was the second letter. Yet he understood that if he asked them to move, any response would be sarcastic or humiliating. His mind drifted to unanswerable questions - what day was it? What was the time? How long had he been here?

"We found you on June 5th, brought you here the following day and it's been..." Virus paused.

"A week." Trip finished for him. He'd been here a week? June 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th, 11th, 12th...It was his birthday today. Considering the other's look of realization, he figured he too knew it, which again raised the question: just who was this guy? It's not as if he could ask either - it seemed like an incredibly rude act and might earn his harsh treatment.

"Do you really not remember me?" A pitifully heartbroken voice questioned, to himself more than anyone in the room.

"No." A monotone voice answered, then continued with a softer tone, "Not fully, anyway. I feel like I've met you before, though I can't remember where."

Silence flooded the room once more and he longed for any sound to break through the waves. A cough, laugh, snarky comment; anything. Surely anything was better than this deafening silence? Trip and Virus must have silently agreed with him, for the next two words that came out were startlingly loud.

"Noiz. Aoba." They both speak in synchronization, voices merged together in a more urgent tone than their singing chimes before. Nonetheless, he'd heard that name before, besides his own.

"Do you remember now?" The other's voice was almost inaudible and had a slight tremor to it, making guilt wrack in his heart. He swore he could recall that tremor, that tone, that state of panic in this person. Why couldn't he remember? Was it before he went to Germany? Was it before he fled from everything?

Midorijima. There was a map of Midorijima on the wall. God, could he remember that island - Platinum Jail, the weird robot who's name he never bothered to learn and... Aoba.

"Aoba?" He finally spoke, in a cautious tone. Aoba was the one he had left, Aoba was the one he'd traveled to Germany for, Aoba was the only one he had ever loved, Aoba led him to many different experiences. How could he have forgotten that electric blue hair and tender gaze? If this was Aoba, why had he gone to this length to get him back? What was the point of bringing him back?

When he returned his thoughts to the present, he found himself in Aoba's arms. Or rather, he was curled over, his whole body limp and lifeless against a warm, comforting chest. Though, he thought idly, if he could move, he wouldn't for the world. This was the affection he'd been pursuing for years and he'd, rather foolishly, abandoned it. There was no way he was repeating the same idiotic action. If his arms were free, they would be gripping on to the other with every bit of strength they had.

"I missed you, Noiz." The remembrance hit him like a brick - instantly every emotion was knocked out of him. Tears seeped out of his eyes as he nestled closer, the only affection he could return with his hands still encased behind his back. Aoba must have understood the gesture, for the arms wrapped around him brought him closer.

"I missed you too, Aoba." He said, and meant every word.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first time writing a fluffy fic. Hope you enjoyed it!


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